


Dark Side of the Moon

by Roo_Bastmoon



Category: Ai no Kusabi
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:51:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roo_Bastmoon/pseuds/Roo_Bastmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Riki begins to realize exactly what he means to Iason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Side of the Moon

The soft drum of evening rain tapped on the tin roofs in the back-alleys of Ceres’ slums. Riki walked alone; soulless neon lights reflected on the shiny black pavement. He had never felt so entirely alone. And he hated himself for it. 

It had been less than six months since he left Eos, escaping the silken comfort of Iason’s bed. Less than six months and the hunger had not cooled. Despite the companionship of his gang, Bison, and the attention from his former lover, Guy, Riki found himself distracted. The memory of that moon-soaked bedroom, Iason hot and hard, that deep, iniquitous voice whispering in his ear . . . Even the seductive charm of those steely strong arms, wrapped around him as he slept . . . These memories haunted Riki relentlessly. 

He tried drowning in Stout, but the drink only left his mind hazy, clouded, all too susceptible to the ever-present longing. Sometimes, when Riki drifted between the worlds of dreaming and awake, he could feel the whisper-touch of blond hair on his cheek, or hot breath across the shell of his ear. His mind would dredge up Iason’s musky scent, and the tiny hairs on his skin would rise up. 

Riki took to walking aimlessly along the deserted, forbidding streets. Almost every night, his feet would take him to the spot where he'd first met his master. Where Iason had saved him, then claimed him, and finally damned him to this constant state of restless wanting. Here, in this empty place, Riki could admit the bitter truth while the rain soaked through to his skin.

No matter where Riki went, no matter which life he chose, there was always a hollowness to him. He felt more trapped without Iason than when he had when he’d worn the chains of a pleasure slave. At least then, it had been Iason’s blame entirely, and he could utter false protests to save his broken pride. But now, alone, cold and dripping wet, near starving and wandering half-mad in an abandoned alley . . . Not even Riki’s pride could save him. 

~*~

Six months. 

Six months, and not a word. 

Long, elegant fingers, encased in fine white gloves, drilled quietly over Iason’s desk. The Blondie sat so still that he resembled a marble statue. Only the rise and fall of his chest and the almost inaudible tapping of his fingertips proved him alive and human. His ice-blue eyes stared out the window. He knew he looked insane. 

Somewhere out beyond the bright lights of Tanagura, Riki huddled just beyond his reach. He was obsessed. Images of Riki plagued him, drove him, jabbed pitchforks of frustration into his stomach, and still he did nothing. 

He sat perfectly still, exercising every ounce of will to remain passive. He must appear unconcerned. He must allow this foolishness for a little while longer, at least. He must prove he had the ultimate control. 

But . . .

As time wore on, the need for Riki grew stronger. It defied all explanation. A thousand times Raoul had beseeched him for answers—why this mongrel? What was so special about the mutt? What could possibly tempt Iason? 

And a thousand times Iason could not put his reasons into words. How to describe Riki’s spirit? How to explain the velvet feeling of the boy’s bare skin against his own? The little gasps that shattered past perfect, bow-shaped lips? Those narrow hips lifting in tandem to his unforgiving thrusts. That defiant air and haughty look that challenged him every time, making him want to take, break, wield, mold and dominate. The whispering desire to hold him gently, after the blitz. Because Riki always broke. Always.

Sometimes Iason felt like the sun, yearning to steal behind the dark side of the moon. With just a little privacy and a lot of time, he knew they could be happy together.

"Katze," he spoke into the darkness. 

Instantly the redhead appeared on the tele-communicator. 

Silent. Grave. Obedient. Katze. 

"I have a task for you." 

~*~

Maybe the Stout effected his judgment, or maybe the hunger simply pushed him over the edge, but Riki’s instincts told him that someone was following him closely. He wound down the catacombs of alleyways for several minutes, but the feeling was still there.

Turning sharply on his heel, he nervously looked around. No sound but the breeze of the chill night air. "Who’s there? What do you want?" 

His voice sounded less threatening than he had hoped. No one answered him, but something sinister shifted behind a garbage tin, causing a bottle to break upon the asphalt. At the sound of shattering glass, Riki skitted forward, kicking the can over swiftly in preparation for a fight . . .

. . . Only to stop in his tracks as a scant black object fell like a lump of soggy coal to the ground. He peered at it for a moment, then bent over to get a better look. Two jade-green eyes flashed up at him, followed by a sharp hiss. 

A kitten. A little black kitten. 

Riki huffed in relief and laughed at his own stupidity. He turned to continue on his way, surprised when fury monster followed after him. 

"Oh yeah? Want to come along with me, little fella? I ain’t got nothin’ you’d want, trust me." Riki chuckled. "I can’t even feed myself!" 

Even as he said this, he walked over and picked the cat up by the scruff of its neck. It fought like hell, but Riki had expected that. Without further thought, he tucked the struggling creature into the folds of his leather jacket, trying not to shiver as the wet fur rubbed against his aching belly. The mangy devil scratched and bit, but luckily he was just drunk enough not to care. 

They walked along together, and after a while, the kitten settled into the warm pouch of Riki’s jacket. He knew the animal had fallen asleep when it didn’t even stir at the growl of his empty stomach. Sighing, he paused in front of a noodle shop, trying not to drool as he watched the patrons eat their late night meals. Even if he couldn’t afford to go in, he could at least savor the aroma. 

"May I buy you a bowl?" A deep, rich voice said. Oh wonderful, another freak looking for a quick fuck, he thought. He wasn’t that hungry. 

"Get lost assho---Katze!" 

The faint impression of a smile flashed across the redhead’s face as he nodded slightly. "Riki." The tone, warm and affectionate, resembled nothing of the Furniture that Riki had known previously. 

Panic gripped him, and Riki’s chilled limbs began to stiffen and tremble. Vaguely, he realized the kitten had woken up, its tiny claws digging into his flesh when he tensed up. But he couldn’t really address that right now. 

"Riki," Katze murmured, staring at him. "Relax. I am not here to take you back." 

Not back. The words slowly sank in and Riki pulled himself together within a matter of moments. "Then why are you here?" 

Again, that flicker of a smile. "I am in the neighborhood on an errand." 

Riki nodded, knowing that meant Katze ran the ‘errand’ for Iason. He couldn’t help but suspect that it involved him. "And?" 

"And I saw you, and thought you might be interested in sharing dinner with me." Always straight to the point, Katze. Never any flowery language or false pretenses. He wanted to buy him dinner. But the catch? A long silence followed; Riki could do little more than gape up at Katze’s lavender eyes. 

"If you don’t want my company, I understand." Katze bowed and turned to go. 

Something in Riki snapped. He didn’t want to be alone tonight. "You said you’re buying?" 

Katze turned back to face him and smirked. "Of course." 

~*~

Warm and dry, the noodle shop seemed inviting enough. Riki thought to sit at one of the tables, but Katze went directly over to the service bar and took a stool. Warily, he followed the man’s example and sat beside him. 

Riki stared unabashedly at Katze while the Furniture ordered noodles and warm beer. He kept staring as Katze lit up a cigarette and took a long drag. Finally, with an air too casual, the redhead looked over at him. 

"What?" 

"You’ve changed," Riki murmured over the voices around them. He couldn’t quite make it out, but something in Katze’s manner seemed more . . . gentle, less guarded. 

"No, I haven’t." 

Riki frowned, not quite sure how to put it. "Yes. You have changed, with me. You’re . . . you’re being nice." 

Katze shrugged. "So?" 

"So, it makes me nervous." 

Katze chuckled. "Understandable. But don’t worry, I’m not going to try anything with you." 

Riki folded his arms over the bar, his frown deepening slightly. "No, I didn’t think that you would. I am just curious as to the purpose of our sudden, ‘unexpected’ meeting." 

"Does there have to be a purpose to our sudden, unexpected meeting?" Katze’s tongue gently licked the base of his cigarette as he took it out of his mouth and blew a puff of noxious smoke in Riki’s face. 

Riki did not let his gaze waiver. "Both of us are street rats. You should know better than to try a story that lame." 

Katze’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "I have yet to tell you a lie, Riki." Katze’s words were even, his tone measured, but Riki knew he was on thin ice. "Look. I’m here. You’re here. You’re hungry, and I’m offering. Don’t make me regret it, okay?" 

Riki looked down at the squirming bulge in his jacket, heard his stomach growl louder than the tiny beast, and decided to let it go. He was too tired to really care anymore. 

The food came shortly and Riki snapped his cheap chopsticks apart before scooping a pile of steaming ramen up to his lips. The liquid heat brought tears to his eyes, and he forced himself to blow on his food before taking a huge mouthful. 

Oh, the stuff was sheer heaven. Warm and thick and creamy. When had he last eaten? How many days ago? Damn, it felt so good! 

Riki opened his eyes to see Katze giving him an unusual look. "Wha?" 

Katze said nothing, merely poured a tall mug of hot cider beer and slid the cup over to him. Riki drank around his flavored pasta, taking a big gulp. 

"Don’t make yourself sick," Katze warned quietly. 

Riki would have told him to fuck off, but he was too busy chewing. 

They ate in silence, Riki trying not to bolt his dinner, Katze taking petite bites here and there. Eventually, everyone else filtered out of the shop, and the quiet between them shifted into something almost companionable. 

Though not a word had been uttered in a full ten minutes, the tension had dissipated significantly. Riki felt grateful for the meal, but he knew he didn’t have to say so. Katze could sense that, certainly. 

The Furniture watched him finish slurping up the broth from his bowl with an exasperated, almost fraternal, expression on his face. Riki smiled and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The sudden movement caused the kitten to mew, and the shop owner gave Riki a heated look. Grinning, he winked at the old man behind the counter. "You got any milk for my friend here?" 

"Humph. Get that animal out of my establishment this instant! It’s unsanitary!" 

Riki prepared to launch into a heated argument when Katze interrupted him. "A bowl of milk. Please." The redhead reverted back to a cold, calculating machine right before Riki’s eyes, flashing Iason’s Furniture signet nonchalantly. Quickly the man obeyed, and soon the kitten was out on the bar, lapping at cream in a plastic bowl. 

Riki watched the stray devour the milk, heedless of its offensive slurping and sucking noises. The memory of his similar behavior during dinner made him blush slightly. He cleared his throat and muttered, "I should know better, keeping him like this. A Pet owning a pet. Now that’s a riot."

Katze did not spare him a glance. "Maybe you should have him neutered and then you can keep him as Furniture." His tone sounded so acerbic it could have eroded steel.

Riki grinned. "Naw. He’s got too nice a disposition to be Furniture. Furniture have to be all surly and bitchy like you . . ." When Katze turned to fix him with a glare, Riki defiantly stuck out his tongue and before long, both men were laughing. 

"What’s his name?" the redhead inquired, gently petting the furball. 

Riki thought for a moment. "Soot." 

"Creative." A wad of bills transferred from wallet to counter as Katze stood to leave. "Keep the change," the redhead mouthed to the owner around his cigarette. 

Riki stood also. "Got to be getting back then?" 

Katze nodded. "Can I give you a lift somewhere? You’ll be sick walking around in all this rain. And it’s not good for Soot, either." The man picked the kitten up with one hand and tucked it under his arm. "Come on, this way." 

Scuffling his boots slightly, Riki trotted behind him until they reached the car. He regretted his decision instantly, as the cabin of the vehicle reeked of Iason’s cologne. His hands clenched into fists on his thighs. Fever tickled sweat out of his brow. 

"Something wrong, Riki?" 

"Brings back old times." Did his voice really sound that hoarse? 

"Hn. Where to?" 

Riki mumbled the directions every so often as they made the way back to his apartment. At first, he worried that Katze would get lost in the rain, but he seemed well enough acquainted with the slums. Soon enough, they were parked in front of his building. 

"Nice place." 

"Sure. It’s great." Riki couldn’t bring himself to get out of the car. It smelled of him. 

"Riki?" 

"Yeah?" he said. Katze just looked at him through the rearview mirror and Riki knew he had to eventually start speaking. "Is he . . . is he well?" he whispered. He could feel his cheeks burn as Katze regarded him silently, falling rain the only sound for a long while. 

"No. I do not think he is." Katze reached down to light another cigarette. 

Curiosity won out. "What’s wrong with him?" 

Katze took a long drag before saying anything. "Nothing, on the outside. On the inside . . . I think he misses you, Riki." 

"Spare me." Katze said nothing more, and the seconds turned into uncomfortable minutes. "Did he send you to check up on me? Katze?" 

Katze still held his gaze in the mirror. "He sent me to make sure you were all right." 

"Fuck!" Conflicting emotions swelled up inside him. It tasted bitter, unwanted. "It’s none of his fucking business!" 

Katze waited until he finished his little tantrum and then murmured, "You were cold and hungry, weren’t you?" 

Shame set in. What kind of response did Katze want? Shit, rip the skin right off his nose, while he’s at it, huh? He felt so awful. Wretched. Totally wretched. "Maybe I was. But I wasn’t asking for favors." 

Katze turned around sharply. "Well, good for you, Riki." 

The look in those eyes startled him. He couldn’t fathom why Katze would be so quick to defend the man who emasculated and degraded him to mere Furniture. 

The air hung thick with smoke and the scent of his master. Strange, how it didn’t choke him, as he had expected. He found himself taking deep, savoring gulps of air. "You said he misses me. Will he try and come for me? Now that . . ." Riki glanced up at his apartment. "Now that he knows where I live?" 

Katze’s expression remained one of stone. "Possibly. He already knew where you lived . . ." Riki’s eyes were drawn down to the redhead’s mouth as he took another long drag on that slender white cigarette. 

"Take care of him." A slender eyebrow crooked in response and Riki shifted nervously. "I mean, take care of him so he doesn’t bother me anymore." 

Katze nodded and reached over to the passenger seat, picking up Soot in one large, callused hand. "Take care of yourself, and he won’t come bothering you." 

Riki took Soot, trying hard not to get lost in Katze’s eyes. "I . . . I can’t . . keep . . ." 

"What?" 

"I can’t keep, uh, Soot. I can’t afford him." 

They sat there, staring at each other for several beats, the white smoke trailing like a thin veil over Katze’s assessing eyes. The redhead nodded and took Soot back from Riki. 

"What are you going—?" 

"I’ve got mice. Maybe Soot here can help me with that when he grows up some." Katze took the cigarette out of his mouth and jammed it in the ashtray before resting Soot on his lap. 

Riki smiled. "Yeah. okay then." Steadying himself, Riki scooted toward the door. "Thanks, I guess. And for dinner, too." 

He opened the car door and stepped halfway out. 

"Riki!" The rain muffled Katze’s voice a bit, but the desperation carried over the uproar. "Remember what I said. About taking care of yourself. Keep out of trouble, and you’ll buy yourself time." 

Riki stood there in the downpour, nodding, not really understanding what Katze meant, but feeling the need to give some sign that he had heard. He let some affection creep into his features as he yelled, "You too, Katze." Slamming the door with finality, he hurried to his building. 

Only a matter of time. 

~*~

Six more months had passed, and Riki could still feel the bleak chill of that evening seep into the marrow of his bones. He stepped into his shower module and turned the water on, full blast, wishing the heat would sear away his self-doubt. Katze said Iason had missed him, but not a word . . . not a word in all this time. One whole year, and Iason had made no attempt to reclaim him. 

Why did that pain hurt worse than any other? 

Iason would never come for him. Didn’t that little episode with Bison prove that he had only meant to toy with Riki? To show him that he would never matter to the Blondie? 

Something inside him had begun freezing, hardening and numbing him until he could feel nothing but icy-hot hate and fear. He loathed himself for still wanting his master. But more than that, he feared how much that desire could cripple him. Without Iason he would never feel complete. 

Iason . . . 

Riki began furiously scrubbing away at his back and arms, not caring when the soapy water sloshed over the glass walls of his module. He was thin, too thin; he hadn’t had much of an appetite lately. He scraped at his flesh, letting it turn pink and even break open in places, wanting the pain to drive away the memories of pleasure. 

Useless. 

He stopped, resting both hands on the wall, panting slightly. He let the water turn cold, not even blinking as rivulets ran around his open eyes and down over his nose and lips. 

Lips so soft, voice demands every night, forcing Riki to open his mouth, to allow the tender invasion. Forcing him to want it, return it, crave it. 

Facing these memories tore him open. 

He wrapped his hand around his cock. Blood trickled from his bottom lip as he fought off the impending release, thinking of Iason’s silky mouth, those blue, blue eyes. 

"Iason!" 

Riki’s eyes blinked open in astonishment; he stared the white ejaculate sliding down the transparent shower wall. 

He closed his eyes, so tired. Perhaps he should just end it all tonight? He stepped out of the shower and toweled himself off, walking slowly into the bedroom. He wasn’t prepared. He should have been prepared.

"Ia—Iason! What the hell are you doing here? Get out! I never want to see your face again!" 

"I’ve come to fetch you." 

A steel-soft voice laced in pure sex. Oh, Riki could protest, could cry bloody murder, but they both knew where this would go tonight. 

Iason looked gorgeous. His hair fell farther past his waist than Riki remembered. He looked paler, thinner somehow, but still just as unapproachably beautiful. Riki couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even swallow. He didn’t register what he babbled at Iason as he backed up to the bed. Desperate to delay the inevitable, Riki bellowed the first thing that came to mind. 

"What about Guy?!" 

"I don’t know. Maybe I could tamper with his mind a bit, make him a docile sex doll?" 

Guy? Hot-headed, dumb-assed, harmless old Guy? "You’re . . . you’re joking!" 

Iason leaned possessively over him, and he shuddered at the power the man still had over him. "Have you ever known me to tell a joke?" 

"What do you want?"

"Return to Eos. The game is up." 

Riki watched helplessly as Iason removed his tailored clothing slowly, his mind desperately clawing for a way out, his body rebelling at the sight of his master getting naked. "Why me! Didn’t you set me free?" 

"Riki," Iason’s mesmerizing voice sounded amused. "I hope you haven’t mistaken me?" The skin-tight black body suit was all that covered Iason’s svelte form now. Riki breathed hard, near hysterical. "I let you go, but I still hold your Pet license. You are now, and always will be, my Pet." 

Iason wanted him to return as his Pet. Rage, despair, and lust warred for Riki’s attention as his master removed his robe and placed the Pet ring over his traitorous cock. With a familiar arrogance, Iason began to stroke Riki’s penis until his shaft was fully erect.

He grabbed Iason’s shoulder. "Someday . . . someday I’ll kill you!" 

Iason’s fingers felt so good; waves of tight heat rolled over his hardness, and he fought to keep his hips from bucking up off the bed. Riki broke the thin flesh of his lip open again, trying hard not to give Iason any satisfaction. 

"Only you could say that to a Blondie." Such warmth in that voice. Such admiration. "What’s wrong?" Iason’s tongue licked his chin in the most sinful manner, lapping up his blood, and Riki’s resistance faded like a breath-stain on a mirror. "Let me see you say it." 

Riki gulped and forced himself to whisper out the words he’d kept caged for over a year. "Do it to me." 

"Yes." Iason’s voice sounded strained. "That’s better." The first few kisses were long and gentle, but after a year of fasting, it quickly turned more heated. 

Iason pressed him down to the bed. Riki tilted his jaw upward each time Iason kissed him. Somehow, being forced into this relieved him of all pressures, stifled the self-hate. This was exactly what he wanted, what kept him waiting. He knew he was a coward, but he needed Iason to force him before he could allow himself to enjoy it. 

The Blondie let him bear the full weight of his body. He wrapped his arms around Iason’s neck and surged up to meet him for another kiss, then stopped abruptly, aware of his fatal error. 

Iason stared into his eyes for a moment, both men hovering over the bed as if frozen in a photograph. Then, understanding dawned over the Blondie’s features, and Riki felt his wrists captured in a vice-like grip above his head.

Iason towered over him, his eyes raking over every inch of Riki. Slim, graceful fingers massaged Riki’s manhood confidently, pushing him to the edge in a matter of sheer, breathless seconds. Iason’s face rested but an inch away from Riki, his master’s intense scrutiny overpowering his sense of shame. 

"No. Look at me. Open to me. Riki." 

Iason’s blue eyes enthralled Riki, and he could not prevent his hips from lifting off the bed anymore. Once Riki started to participate, Iason lowered his wrists to his sides, and let them go. He laved at Riki’s exposed throat. 

Moans escaped him as he fought to keep his eyes open. Iason took Riki's hand and delicately kissed each finger. Riki startled when Iason placed the hand over his own heart and bent to lightly brush their mouths together. 

"Riki . . ." 

Iason nipped and kissed a trail from Riki’s chest to his throbbing erection. He gripped the sheets as Iason deliberated for a few maddening moments, sighing as he finally entered the warmth of his master’s mouth. It had been too long, and now everything Iason did produced a raw ache. 

That thick, moist tongue wrapped around his shaft, swirling the head of his cock, again and again, until Riki lay panting, dazed. When Iason had tired of playing that game, he bobbed up and down rapidly, his nose brushing Riki’s flat stomach. Then he slowly withdrew. With a teasing look, Iason lashed at the head of Riki’s penis with the tip of his tongue. 

"Iason!" 

No sooner had he called out to his master, then Iason surged up over him, spreading Riki’s legs wide, pushing them up until his kneecaps brushed against his shoulders. His voice sounded heavy and dangerous to Riki. "I’ve waited past enduring, Riki. I cannot wait any longer, I must have you!" 

Riki yelped when Iason thrust in suddenly. His master held deathly still for a moment, but Riki still could not catch his breath. Iason’s sweaty brow bent to touch Riki’s forehead, and he scarcely made out the pained whisper, "Forgive me . . ." 

Those two words cracked something down deep within. Taking two handfuls of golden hair, Riki pulled Iason down for a tentative kiss. "Do it to me," he murmured huskily. 

Nodding, Iason held him down tightly, bending him in half. Next came slow, deliberate thrusts. Iason took some time and care, building up to a crescendo. Riki could only cling to Iason and hold his breath.

Barbarous. Iason’s thrusts became wild, almost cruel in their intensity. The bed threatened to break. “Iason,” he called, again and again. 

The Blondie bowed over him, fucking his mouth with his tongue. Golden hair canopied their faces as Iason ate at the corners of his mouth. The Blondie’s abdomen provided incredible friction, and Riki pressed himself up to Iason, resting his chin over the man’s shoulder, pandering to Iason for more contact with breathy little moans. 

When Iason bit down possessively on Riki’s shoulder bone, Riki came hard, coating Iason’s throat and chest. His master broke away slightly, grunting fiercely as he came too. 

Iason came several times, actually, wincing with each little orgasm. It looked almost painful, and Riki gently brushed Iason’s hair out of his eyes as they rode out his master’s completion. 

Riki groaned as the blond finally collapsed, sweaty, aching, their breath ragged. Iason nuzzled his neck for a while, then licked away some salty-sweat at the hollow of his throat. They kissed deeply.

As he fought to stay awake, Riki was dimly aware of the back of Iason’s hand gently stroking his cheek. The older man slowly pulled out. 

Riki cringed as he lowered his legs and tried to cope with the burning sensation in his ass. Iason hovered over him, kissing him softly on his chin and neck. "Come back to me." 

Riki tiredly nodded his head, rolling over on his side, defeated. He raised his knees to ease the sizzling burn in his hips and ass, trying his best to fight back tears. 

His master pulled the covers up over them, turning Riki around to fit into the cradle of his neck and shoulder. He placed a chaste kiss on Riki’s forehead. Smooth fingertips traced patterns over Riki’s back and buttocks, lulling him into a kind of trance. 

"Pack your things, and return to me tomorrow, Riki," that sensuous voice whispered. 

He nodded, too exhausted to speak. Riki slipped into sleep easily, snug against Iason’s warm frame. 

~*~

Before dawn, Iason dressed quietly, not wishing to disturb Riki. He had taken the boy in an unforgivable manner last night, entering him without preparation or consideration. He’d never lost control like that before. Riki had gone well beyond an Achilles. Iason needed the boy like he needed air to breathe. 

He looked so peaceful, lying there. His dark, unruly curls wisping over his face like that, black lashes against gaunt cheeks. When Riki returned to Eos, Iason would make it up to him. He would drown him in adoration, make love to him for hours every night, and seduce Riki so thoroughly that he would never want to leave again. He’d also force the boy to actually eat something every once in a while.

The Blondie gathered up his coat and gave the boy one last final look before walking out the door. He raked a careless hand through his hair, forcing his feet to move forward, out into the sunlight.

It was hard; he really wanted to stay there with Riki in the shadows—on the dark side of the moon.

Soon. 

Soon.


End file.
